


The Son of a Sorcerer

by Literaria



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-24
Updated: 2011-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-23 00:29:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/244266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Literaria/pseuds/Literaria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Merlin gets to tell more of the truth than usual and still lies through his teeth the entire time, and Arthur presumes to know far better than Merlin about, well, everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Son of a Sorcerer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: allusions to minor character death, idiocy above and beyond the call of duty.
> 
> Disclaimer: Of course I own Merlin. Obviously. Arthur and Gwaine fan me with palm leaves, Sir Leon serenades me, and Merlin feeds me grapes while I recline luxuriously on silken pillows of utter delusion.

"… not debatable, Merlin!" the prince growled as he stormed into his chambers, his manservant a few steps behind him. "The man was caught using magic, he confessed, there's nothing to it!"

"His wife is with child!"

"And if it were her, she would have till the baby was born. That has nothing to do with the father!"

"So you'll just let the child grow up without ever knowing one of his parents? Isn't there enough of that going around?"

Arthur snapped his head around to glare death at Merlin. He wasn't sure if his servant was alluding to Arthur's mother, but for the sake of Merlin's continued health, he gave him the benefit of the doubt.

"Why is this so important to you, anyway?"

"I… it – " Merlin collapsed into Arthur's chair at the table, which the prince decided to let go for the moment. "Back in Ealdor, I knew people in this kind of situation. I – "

Arthur raised an eyebrow, unswayed.

"A couple years back, I found out a bit more about my father. He… he used magic, Arthur." Merlin looked up at him as if he was half-expecting to be escorted politely to the dungeons, or perhaps be skewered on the spot. To be fair, that was the reaction that had been drilled into Arthur since infancy, but this was _Mer_ lin.

"Your father… was a _sorcerer,"_ he said slowly, sinking into a chair opposite his servant.

Merlin nodded. "Er, yeah. Don't worry, it's not hereditary or anything," he said quickly as he fixed his gaze to the table. "But you can understand why it's not something I advertise to the general public. Anyway, he didn't use his magic for evil. He just… happened to use magic."

Arthur let out a long breath. There was no gentle way to say this, but his idiot manservant seemed to be conveniently ignoring the obvious. "Merlin, you're hardly making a case for 'nice' sorcerers. He _abandoned_ you and your mother."

"No," Merlin said firmly, and for a moment Arthur thought he was just contradicting him to avoid the truth. "No, he didn't even know about me yet. I don't know if my mother knew yet." He sighed. "And he didn't abandon her. He'd run to Ealdor to escape the Purge, but it was still too close to the border, I guess. He got word that – that your father was after him, and he couldn't put my mother in danger. He had to leave."

For whatever reason, Arthur believed him. He had no reason to think that Merlin hadn't just filled in the details that made him feel better about growing up fatherless. The idea that there even could be such a thing as an innocent sorcerer went against everything Uther had ever taught Arthur. And still, he believed Merlin.

It was a horrible circle. Arthur never knew his mother because of magic. Merlin never knew his magic-using father because of _Arthur's_ father. They were in the same _bloody_ boat, each with good reasons to blame what the other mourned the loss of.

"Merlin, I know the situations are similar," Arthur admitted, "but you father does not clear the guilt of that man in court today."

"He used magic to keep his wife from falling from a barn loft, probably saving the baby and maybe her as well." Merlin met his eyes again, radiating a determination Arthur usually only got to see when he was about to do something dangerous and stupid and noble. "I know you've rarely encountered a sorcerer that _wasn't_ trying to kill you, but they're out there – like my father, like Gaius, like my friend Will… like the dragonlord." Merlin's eyes flickered away on the last two, but Arthur paid it no mind. "They're just the ones with no reason to hunt you down and murder you." Merlin sighed through his nose. "I'm not saying clear the man. I'm just asking you to look into it a bit further, and if he tries to harm you, then let him die for a real crime."

Arthur looked away from his treason-speaking servant. "Even if he's done nothing but save his wife, there's still nothing I can do. My father has condemned him. At best, I can delay the execution."

"Do what you can, I guess, and maybe he'll find a way to escape," Merlin offered. "Camelot's dungeons aren't exactly renowned for their security."

Arthur snorted a laugh and clambered to his feet. "All right," he said. "I'll ask to question him further. That's all." _For now._

At the door, Arthur halted and looked back at the sorcerer's son sitting at his table. "Merlin."

"Yeah?"

"Did you ever get to meet your father?"

Merlin didn't answer for a long moment. "No," he finally said, staring at his hands. "He died around the time that I found out about him."

Arthur nodded. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Merlin gave him a half-smile, and Arthur departed to commit semi-treason for the sake of a servant.


	2. The Son of a Sorcerer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since we don't know exactly how mad Uther's going to be in Series 4, I've made him pretty much lucid. That said, I think I can safely guarantee that this entire fic isn't going to be S4-compliant. Believe me, if I knew that kind of information, I'd write Uther exactly as crazy as he will be in canon.
> 
> Actually, if I knew that kind of information, I'd be running around the house screaming and dancing, and probably wouldn't have the presence of mind to write anything at all.
> 
> Disclaimer: My family is concerned that I'm keeping Merlin and the knights in a man-harem, so they're sending me to a shrink. What else are you supposed to do when you own such a glorious show and its exquisite male cast? And I _do_ own it, right? Right? *twitch*

"You summoned me, Father?"

"Ah, Arthur, yes. That last sorcerer, the one who escaped."

"Yes, sire?" The sorcerer that Merlin had so vehemently defended. On the day of his execution, storm clouds had suddenly billowed out of a clear sky and drenched the crowd, prisoner, and pyre, delaying the event until the next day. During the night, the sorcerer had vanished from his cell, and his pregnant wife had also disappeared, though none of the guards could recall seeing her leave the city.

"The city's response to his escape was not as it should have been," Uther said. "The people seemed apathetic at best, and some were even relieved. I fear that magic may once again be gaining a foothold among the peasantry, and that certain factions – " _Morgana_ " – may be gathering followers." The king paused, momentarily lost, before giving his orders. "I want you and the knights to lead a broad search and investigation of the lower town, as well as servants here in the castle."

Arthur's stomach clenched and flipped. "Of course, sire. I will begin immediately."

* * *

A week later, Arthur and Merlin stood on the castle walls overlooking the gate. They could hear the faint noise of a platform being constructed in the courtyard. There was no time for burnings during a miniature purge – beheadings would suffice until things settled down again.

"He insisted on handling the first few himself," Arthur said dully, "in the middle of the court and everything. I've tried to take the ones I wasn't as sure about and question them less publicly, but he's starting to worry that I'm not convicting _enough._ As if he expects me to meet a quota."

"You're giving them a better chance than they would have had before your father," Merlin murmured. "You're doing your best, Arthur."

"I just had no idea how many he arrested on so little evidence. At least half are completely innocent, yet he seems stunned that I should release so many! Is this how things were handled before?" Arthur knew that things were worse in the Purge, that not everyone was even interrogated. He would have preferred not to think about it, but it had been occupying his thoughts to an alarming degree lately.

Merlin didn't say anything, so Arthur changed the subject slightly. "I'm going to have to start questioning the castle staff soon." Arthur's knuckles turned white on the parapet, and he checked around to ensure that they wouldn't be overheard. "Some of the people have been brought in merely because they were related to or friends with a known sorcerer. Most have avoided accusation by disowning their treasonous relations, but my father is still going to keep track of them for some time."

Arthur glanced sideways at Merlin. The manservant appeared unaffected, but he had become surprisingly good at that expression in the last week.

"If the king finds out you're the son of a sorcerer that he hunted out of the kingdom during the Purge, that'll be enough for him to convict you. You're around him and me every day – any hint of sorcery will set him off."

"Wouldn't the fact that I've been around him and you every day for four years, and done nothing, prove that I'm _not_ a mad sorcerer bent on the downfall of the kingdom?" Merlin quipped, rolling his eyes.

"I wouldn't bet on it," Arthur snorted. "I can't question you myself – my father won't believe that I'm unbiased. I can't have Gwaine or Percival or any of the others do it because he doesn't trust them yet. He trusts Sir Leon, though, and Leon trusts you. I don't think he'll ask about your family, so I'll make sure that you're questioned by him."

"You don't have to do that," Merlin grinned, surprised. "I can hold my own against any knight or guard. I'm a better liar than you think I am."

Arthur laughed. "Sure, Merlin. Keep telling yourself that. You're going to Leon."

"Are you _worried_ about me, sire?" Merlin teased.

"Never."

* * *

And yet, for the duration of the questionings, Arthur found excuses to keep Merlin near him almost constantly. He considered coming down with some ghastly illness just so he could justify keeping Merlin at his side and away from the interrogations as long as possible, but he knew he was needed for the investigation so that not every poor, bewildered, panicking peasant would be convicted. He settled for just making Merlin polish his armor twice a day and scrub every surface in his chambers. Merlin was simply _thrilled_ with that.

Eventually, though, a pair of guards showed up at Arthur's door and told Merlin to come with them. The idiot finally showed some fear, glancing over his shoulder as he was led away somewhat roughly. Arthur tried to remember that Merlin would be perfectly safe with Leon, but he still didn't get anything done for what felt like hours.

Finally, Merlin trotted back in, looking a little tired but unexpectedly cheerful.

"I walked in there, and Sir Leon took one look at me and started chuckling!" Merlin proclaimed somewhat indignantly. "Is it _that_ hard to believe that I could be a sorcerer?"

"Yes," Arthur said helpfully. Merlin scowled halfheartedly.

"He asked me three questions that had anything to do with magic, then kicked back and started asking if you were treating Gwen right."

"What?"

"Well, they grew up together, he's essentially her older brother."

"And I thought Elyan was bad enough."

"Mm. Yeah, all the knights have adopted Gwen in one way or another. You'd better never make her mad."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "So Leon didn't find out about your father?"

"Nah. Just asked if I'd ever used magic, ever betrayed the crown, or harbored any ill will toward you or the king. He was grinning the entire time."

"Well, it is pretty hard to imagine. Sorcery's got to take some brains, you know."

"It'd serve you right if I did turn out to be some mad, evil sorcerer. I could enchant your boots to eat your feet."

"That does remind me, you need to polish my boots. All of them."

"Prat."

"Idiot."


	3. In the Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: My psychiatrist has kindly informed me that my Merlin man-harem is all in my head, and I don't own anything. Obviously, I fired her. She was just jealous. Merlin, Arthur, Gwaine, and Sir Leon all say hello, as well as Percival, whom I recently took on as my personal bodyguard/bouncer.

"I still don't understand why you insist on personally questioning every sorcerer," Uther wondered, looking askance at his son.

"The more we can learn from our enemy," Arthur declared, "the better we can predict them, track their movements… and maybe keep every other one from escaping." The prince grimaced sardonically.

"Very well," the king sighed. "You may do as you wish with her."

* * *

"I wouldn't have harmed anyone with my magic," the witch sneered, "if I weren't hunted and cornered like an animal."

Arthur was bit stumped by this woman. She hadn't done anything to draw attention to herself, but someone had reported her for minor sorcery and Uther had dispatched the guards to arrest her. She had put up an admirable resistance, nearly killing three guards and leaving a dark bruise all along Gwaine's cheekbone (the knight had yet to stop whining about it), and she obviously held Arthur in such contempt that he couldn't help but consider her at least a little evil.

"Why didn't you submit to arrest and plead your case in court?"

"Please. No one stands a chance in _King_ Uther's court," she spat the title like the lowest insult she could think of. "Not once they're accused of sorcery."

"If you hate him so much," Arthur leaned forward across the table, "why did you never do anything about it?"

"That's not what my magic's for. My father's line has always had a gift for healing – frankly, I'm stunned I put up as good a fight as I did when your men came for me. I've never studied more than a few basic defensive spells."

"Healing?"

"Aye. I got it from my father. He got it from his mother, though he barely knew her. My grandmother was a renowned healer before she died."

Something struck Arthur as odd. "Surely that's just a coincidence, though. Magic isn't heritable."

"Oh, isn't it now? I suppose you would know far better than I," the witch snorted. Seeing the prince's confusion, she clarified. "It's passed down through the blood. You could stand there and wave your hand about and shout the Old Tongue at me as long as you pleased, but nothing would happen. It's not in your veins."

"But… I've been told before that it's not inherited," Arthur protested, mind suddenly sluggish.

"Well, you were misinformed. Whoever told you lied or didn't know what he was talking about." She glared at him. "Did you burn him too?"

But the prince was already halfway out the cell door.

* * *

Merlin had magic.

 _Merlin_ had _magic._

 _Mer_ lin! And the idiot was too dense to even realize it!

All this time, the blithering fool had been prancing about Camelot with magic in his blood, with no idea that he had that kind of power at his disposal!

" _Don't worry, it's not hereditary or anything."_ That's what he'd said. The stupid… stupid… _dollophead_ had sat there and just assumed that he was as mundane and ordinary as the next man. What made _Mer_ lin think he knew anything about magic? All he had was some hearsay about his father, from goodness knows what source, and suddenly he was the expert on magical heritability. The _idiot!_

Arthur paced the length of his chambers, fiddling with his gauntlet. What was he supposed to do? Tell Merlin he was a sorcerer? The poor man had been nervous enough about having a magical father. This would probably give him some kind of mental breakdown, and Arthur really didn't need his servant huddling in a corner, rocking back and forth and trying to lick his elbows. And besides, Merlin couldn't lie to save his own skin! If he was ever questioned again, he'd have to say that yes, he _could_ use magic, even if he never had in his life.

But didn't Merlin have a right to know? He'd been conveniently uninformed about his own father for most of his life – he might appreciate knowing he had something from the man, even if he'd never met him.

But then again –

The bumpkin in question chose that moment to stumble through the door, interrupting Arthur's internal debate.

"Why can't you get on with two or three outfits, like the rest of us?" Merlin gasped, setting an enormous basket overflowing with clean laundry on the chest at the end of the bed. "Really, who needs this many shirts? And you call _me_ a girl!"

Arthur grumbled something to the effect of "You _are_ a girl," (not one of his best retorts, granted) and watched Merlin putter about, hanging up his apparently countless shirts, straightening this, folding that. He was _humming_ , for heaven's sake, cheerfully if not skillfully. He was the very image on perfectly everyday, unmagical ordinariness, and although he groused about his chores (and Arthur, and some grumpy washerwoman, and Gaius kicking him out of his room for a patient the other day, and Arthur again), he appeared to be happy that way.

"You in there, Arthur?" Merlin asked, cocking his head to the side in a way that seemed to make his ears even more prominent. "You seem sort of distracted. Something wrong?"

"No, nothing," Arthur lied, and made up his mind. "You can go for the night, I can get myself ready for bed."

"Really?" Merlin looked more than dubious. "You sure don't need help, it's harder than it loo—"

" _Really,_ Merlin. Go get some sleep."

"You sure you don't need me to tuck you in, read you a bedtime story?"

" _Go."_

The manservant fled with a mischievous grin, leaving behind a fondly irritated prince.

 _Idiot._


	4. Oblivious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: They came and took me to a funny white room with lots of padding on the walls. It's okay, though I miss my big squashy pillows and giant palm leaf fans. The harem and I are quite happy here, much to the doctors' dismay. Apparently, though, I can't fire _these_ shrinks when they start telling me I don't own Merlin. I'll just have to tell Leon to sing louder to drown them out.

Arthur should have known this might happen someday. He should have been prepared, should have had a plan.

Still, he had to admit he was a little stunned when he walked into his chambers one morning and found his bed making itself and a broom skittering across the floor, completely unattended.

Merlin stood in the center of the room, frozen to the spot, staring at Arthur with horror and fear.

Arthur stepped the rest of the way into the room, closing and locking the door firmly behind him. He grabbed his petrified servant by the elbow and placed him in a chair at the table, hunkering down in front of him.

"Did anyone – Merlin! Look at me. It's all right. Did anyone see you?" Arthur demanded in his emergency voice.

Merlin shook his head mutely, looking a bit like he might pass out.

Arthur sighed in relief. "Good. How long was it going before I came in?" He glanced over his shoulder and was relieved to find that the broom had stilled and toppled, and the bedclothes had fallen back into disarray. "Never mind, it's not important. Merlin? It's okay, I'm not angry, all right? It wasn't your fault."

Merlin's eyes finally focused a bit more, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"You were probably dozing off again, didn't even notice you were doing it, right?" Arthur tried to grin prattishly, but Merlin's huge, terrified stare was unnerving him a bit. "Has it ever happened before?"

Merlin nodded hesitantly, still completely confused.

"Recently?"

Another nod.

"Okay," Arthur said grimly, straightening up and pulling up a chair for himself. It was probably too much to hope that the magic would go dormant again on its own. "Merlin? I want you to trust me. I know what's going on, I know you're not doing it on purpose."

Merlin froze, expression going completely blank before it started to morph into one of comprehension.

"One of the prisoners explained it to me, a witch who came through about a month and a half ago. Everyone else that I've asked since has confirmed it." He took a deep breath and looked his servant in the eye. "Merlin, I know you thought it was only your father, but magic is passed down through families. You've had it all this time, you just never knew it was there."

Merlin looked at his hands, twisting the long fingers into knots.

"Now," Arthur began uncomfortably, his _I'm-the-prince-I'm-in-control-nobody-panic_ persona starting to fade with the adrenaline, "I know you've got to be really confused right now, but we'll… we'll figure something out. And Gaius, he'll help." He patted Merlin awkwardly on the shoulder. "We won't let it get out of control, and no one else will find out."

The servant glanced up, quirking his lips in something a little tighter than a smile.

"You can talk, you know," Arthur teased. "I've never seen you this quiet."

"I – I'm really not sure what I should – " Merlin looked around the room, still a little thunderstruck but recovering. "Thanks, I guess, for starters."

"For what? Not murdering you for a mistake? If I were going to do that, it would have been long ago. Probably for, oh, being late to your very first day of work. Definitely by the time you – "

"All right, all right, I get it!" Merlin chuckled, setting Arthur's mind at ease that he was finally breathing properly. He still looked a little pale, though…

"Go see Gaius," Arthur ordered, heaving himself to his feet. "Tell him what happened. You have the rest of the day off."

Merlin hesitated.

"If you want me to help explain it to him, I can, but I think he'll understand."

"No, no, that's fine."

"Then be off with you! And if I hear you don't take the rest of the day to rest, you'll have me to answer to," Arthur threatened, snickering to himself as his servant bolted.

So the poor idiot had realized what was right in front of his nose. About time – Merlin really could be oblivious.

A minute later, Arthur thought he heard slightly hysterical laughter echoing from somewhere further down the corridors.


	5. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Gwaine keeps hitting on the nurses that come to bring me the funny green pills I'm supposed to take. They just look right past him like he's not even there. It's making him a bit surly. The rest of the man-harem is fine, though. These quack doctors will never convince me that Merlin isn't mine. Never!

_A few years later_

"Arthur?"

"Yes, Merlin?"

"I want to learn to use my magic."

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's still illegal. When I'm king, I'll lift the ban, and _then_ we'll talk."

"Really?"

"Yes. But even then, I'm not sure I want you learning magic. You're far too much of an idiot to have that kind of power at your command."

"Oh. …Arthur?"

Sigh. " _Yes,_ Merlin?"

"I already know how to use my magic."

"You're joking."

"Mm, no."

"Well, I'm sure you're not any good at it."

"Good enough to save your life repeatedly. And Camelot."

"Oh, for the love – "

"…Arthur?"

"Shut up, Merlin."

 _The End_

* * *


End file.
